Part Seven
John Doe stood in the shower until the hot water ran out. He had a clue, a real one, a good one, a strong one and now he had to figure out what the hell to do with it.
Obviously call Clark...Kent and ask if he could see him. Clark Kent. Superman was Clark Kent and somehow he knew that he'd met him somewhere, that they were maybe friends or something and that this would be the key.
Or maybe Superman had busted him for selling drugs. Maybe that was where they'd met.
First he had to find out who Clark Kent was because that puzzle piece wasn't there. Maybe someone could tell him but then there would be questions about why he wanted to know and if no one was supposed to know the secret—no, he had to do this on his own.
First things first. It was late, the house was shutting down for the night and he would be locked in until seven tomorrow morning.
He lay in the narrow bed, his mind racing, trying to think, to remember how and why he knew Superman (Superman!). Maybe he'd been arrested once or twice but that didn't explain how he knew about Clark Kent. There was some kind of connection and he had to find it. He would find it.
This was it. This was the key. He was sure.
* * *
Donna was obsessed with finding Dick; everything they'd tried had led to dead ends and she was worried. "Come on, there has to be something we've overlooked, there has to be. We've missed something, he can't just disappear."
"Yes, he could. If Dick wanted to be alone for some reason, no one would be able to find him. He'll come out when he's ready and until then we're wasting our time."
"No. If he wanted to get away he still would have told someone, he'd have told Alfred so he wouldn't worry and even if he forgot, Bruce can find anyone. Something's happened to him."
Roy wouldn't admit it but he was as worried as she was. She was right. Dick wouldn't just pull something like this and even if there'd been some emergency he would have taken five seconds to turn on his GPS so he could be tracked. Something had happened and it was probably something bad. "Okay, fine, let's go over everything again from the beginning; he went to work at that bar..."
* * *
Using the computer in the Human Resources office, John googled 'Clark Kent' the next morning, stunned to have over two hundred thousand hits returned. The man had started as a reporter at the Daily Planet but now he was working as a TV news reporter, a talking head who also seemed to do some real investigative reporting and who had earned a few major journalism awards over the years. He was high profile and any moron could see that he was a dead ringer for Superman if you took his glasses off.
A close-up look at a couple of pictures made it obvious that the glasses were either the weakest ever prescribed or fakes; he voted for the latter.
Okay, now he just had to get a hold of the man, find out why they knew each other well enough for him to know what had to be one of his most closely held secrets and then, well then he could take it from there.
* * *
"Mr. Kent, there's a call for you on line three. He called himself John Doe and says he knows you."
Clark didn't look up from the piece for tonight's broadcast that was in mid-edit and behind schedule. John Doe? C'mon. "I don't have time for this, please just take a message, Lynn."
* * *
Later that night Clark was putting in time at regularly scheduled monitor shift up in the JLA satellite. He was idly listening to the chatter between the various heroes active that evening, just keeping tabs on things. Mostly the messages were to and from the Titans, talking about Dick who seemed to have gone missing.
He liked Dick, always had and he respected the young man. He flicked a switch.
"Batman, may I offer assistance in locating Nightwing?"
"It's under control. Out."
Typical of Bruce. Of course it was under control, everything was always under control—maybe that was why Dick had decided to go missing. It seemed that hos friends were stumped as to where or why he'd gone or even if the disappearance was voluntary or not. Dick Grayson was a kidnap target and had been since the moment he moved into Wayne Manor. In addition, Robin, later Nightwing were on the wanted list of every known criminal in the civilized world and a few who didn't limit themselves to just the civilized side of things.
If he really had gone missing, if he wasn't just sitting on a beach someplace with his phone turned off then he needed to be found and quickly. Evidently no one had heard from him in two weeks.
A lot could have happened and it could already be too late. He sent messages to every JL member, asking if anyone had any information regarding Nightwing's current whereabouts; the answers all came in negative and so now Superman decided to get on the case.
* * *
In his private quarters Alfred was running yet another computer search in hopes of uncovering anything which might help find the young master.
No one admitted to any of the local hospitals in either Gotham of Bludhaven with his description in the last two weeks. No one arrested by any of the local police fit his particulars. No ransom notes. No contact with any of his friends. No one at his apartment house had seen him. He wasn't working on any cases that anyone was aware of. While he wasn't currently involved with any young ladies, a short-lived tryst was always possible; the boy had been raised by Bruce Wayne, after all. His job wasn't one to take him away. He wasn't estranged from master Bruce at the moment, certainly not enough to cause all of this fuss and concern.
He'd simply disappeared, seemingly without a trace.
* * *
John tried to get in contact with Clark Kent again the next day, calling his office several times and e-mailing the network, using their website help-line. He also left another message with a different secretary again, stressing that it was important. He never received answers from any of his contact attempts.
Calling again the next day he was politely told that Mr. Kent was overseas on assignment and wouldn't be back in the country for the rest of the week.
Googling Clark Kent again he made another search and found that the 'Lois' he remembered from his dream was probably Kent's wife, reporter Lois Lane. Calling the Daily Planet he was put through to her office and to his surprise; "Lois Lane, yes?"
"Uh, Ms. Lane, I'm a—friend—of your husband's and I was hoping that he, or maybe you, might be able to help me."
"Who is this?"
"I'm, I'm not sure."
"Excuse me?" He could hear her talking to someone in the background; "I said I wanted to interview the Secretary of State herself, not her assistant. Tell them that I can guarantee her five minutes on the national broadcast." Then, "You don't know who you are? When you find out call me back ad then we'll both know."
"NO! Please don't hang up. You don't understand. I know who your husband is—I know where he's from and what he does when he's not being a reporter."
"Excuse me?"
"I know him, or, I mean, he knows me and I need his help." There was a pause on the line and Lois thought she heard what sounded like a shaky breath, as though the man on the other end was trying to calm himself enough to speak. Then, "Please. This is the only clue I have."
He sounded desperate, like he was at the end of his rope and didn't have any place else to turn. She couldn't just hang up in case he really did know something and wasn't just another nut latching onto Clark Kent, national face of the news every night. "..All right but he's not here. I'll have to call him; can you hold on while I use the other line?"
"Yes, I can hold on."
She pressed the hold button and pulled the communicator out of her pocket. "Clark?..."
A few seconds later she took the young man off of hold. "I just spoke to him and he said that he'll do what he can. Where are you?"
John gave her the address of the rehab center. "I could meet him in Melville Park. About a hundred yards inside the main entrance, there's a bench behind a big oak tree—it's kind of hidden."
"I'll tell him, just wait there."
"Thank you." He sounded hollow, like he was exhausted, frightened and hopeful all rolled into one.
"Good luck, be careful." She hung up, Clark would be there in a minute and see what was really going on here. Whoever he was, he seemed like he needed...
She stopped mid-thought. Oh my god, that's who that was, it sounded exactly like him unless it was his twin or something. She pressed the communicator again. "Clark, I don't know what's going on but you have to get there, something's wrong."
"I'm there, I see him waiting for me but I'll let you know what's going on."
TBC